


Her Father's Eyes

by Scree_Kat



Series: Ineffable Parenthood [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crowley needs a nap, Family means terrorising idiots, Gen, Here be cussing, Hermione and Harry are little shits, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable parenting, It's too early for this nonsense, Overprotective Hermione and Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 15:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20230393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scree_Kat/pseuds/Scree_Kat
Summary: The longer Harry and Hermione are in Tadfield, the more Aziraphale and Crowley savour seeing themselves reflected in their children's personalities.The charm is rather lost at 5am.





	Her Father's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This series isn't published in chronological order. If this is something that'll irritate you, consider this your sign from the universe to run. Run like Hastur is drunk and lonely and trying to chat you up.

It was 5am in Tadfield when the screaming began. 

Aziraphale woke instantly, stumbling to his feet and towards the sound, half-heartedly shaking his leg against the sheet currently caught in the hem of his rather garish tartan pyjamas. He wondered, frustrated and rather sure he knew exactly where that frustration should be aimed, if Crowley had forgotten the 'no basking till after the milkman leaves' rule again. He was halfway out the front door when his sleep addled brain recognised Crowley's heavy, staggering footfalls behind him. 

That… did not bode well. 

One third of the likely culprits possessing a suitable alibi, Aziraphale steeled his resolve, and took in the scene before him. 

The milkman, typically ruddy complexion pale enough to be corpse-like, was staring at Harry and Hermione and screaming in the sort of terror that Aziraphale hadn’t assumed him capable of. Harry and Hermione, arms around each other's shoulders, were at their ease and seeming utterly, ridiculously _ normal, _all things considered. As though the arrival of the cavalry had rather the opposite impact than intended, the milkman let out a wailing howl of fear, and ran, shrieking his way down the street in a way that would be rather more hilarious if it didn’t come with the threat of another rousing ‘neighbourhood watch’ sermon.

'What is going on?' The twins turned, Harry looking innocently at his fathers, a sweetly perplexed expression in place. Hermione didn't bother to play innocent, her mischievous grin far too much like her father's. Especially with her eyes startlingly yellow and serpentine. Crowley, utterly useless of a morning at the best of times but especially when only just awake and startled, started laughing, oblivious to the lights flicking on at Anathema's as a traumatised milkman made himself known beyond the silencing wards they’d had to create. 

Sighing, Aziraphale shot Hermione a disappointed look that didn't even dim her smile a fraction, and began to chase the poor man down. He was half way past Anathema's cottage when he remembered there were easier ways to solve the problem than jogging.

*

'How?' Crowley, still devolving into giggles and proud glances far too often to provide suitable chastisement, barely managed to get the word out. He tried his best to ignore Aziraphale’s unimpressed scowl.

Hermione tried to smother her grin as she shrugged and muttered 'magic'. There was no way in hell he could make it through an entire statement, so he was grateful to see a raised eyebrow was enough to get the point across. 'If I concentrate hard enough, I can change things.'

'Ooookay. Why?' The children's expressions darkened worryingly. 

'Talk shit, get bit,' Hermione hissed, and it took ineffable intervention to keep Crowley from laughing hiss ass off at the way she even sounded like him. 

'YOU BIT HIM?!?' Aziraphale wasn't known for his temper, but damned if the angel couldn't sound utterly menacing when his typically sweet, kind personality faltered and fell away. The children cowered, snapping Aziraphale out of his frustration and into remorse so quickly Crowley wondered if he'd gotten dizzy. The angel clutched at the bridge of his nose, and Crowley was almost certain he was praying for strength, mercy, or divine intervention to get him through the rest of the conversation. In fairness, if he’d thought Hell would help, rather than deliberately show up to make things worse, he’d probably resort to prayer, too. 'I’m sorry, my darlings. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was very wrong of me, and I won’t do it again.’ The children nodded, but they also stayed close to Crowley. ‘It must be said, though: we do NOT bite people, Hermione.' And _ that _was being added to the list of things he’d never thought he’d hear an angel say. 

'I didn't _ really _bite him, Zira! I just wanted him to shut up.' She snapped her mouth closed as though she’d said too much, when frankly, some clarification was needed. 

It took a substantial act of will to calm himself enough to speak, but Crowley managed it (mostly). ‘And what was the idiot saying, little Miss Hiss?’ She beamed at the nickname, though it quickly faded behind annoyance. 

‘Nothing.’ She crossed her arms, and Crowley fought the urge to mirror the pose in retaliation.

‘You know he’ll yell again if you don’t tell us, right?’ Aziraphale looked _ betrayed _ , utterly scandalised by the mere suggestion of him shouting, but beneath the gasping shock of it all, Crowley could see the truth. His angel, too, was tired and quickly losing patience with the push and pull of their conversation, and even if he was reluctant to start shouting, he was more than willing to start lecturing. They’d be hearing about it for hours. Worse, _ Crowley _ would be hearing about it for hours. And then _ even more _ hours after the twins went to bed. Thankfully, Harry’s gaze shifted to Aziraphale, and he sighed, admitting defeat. 

‘He was talking to some old cow and they were saying things about the two of you. I won’t repeat them, they’re mean.’ He nodded his head firmly, as though that would be the end of it. 

Well, that’d do it. Crowley sighed. ‘Right. Sweet as it is you two off defending our honour or whatever, we’re not simpering damsels, so no terrorising the mortals, alright? We can fight our own battles.’

‘You said to.’ Hermione’s tone was petulant, and he had the sudden, mad urge to drop her at Hastur’s for a while, see how long it took her to break a Duke of Hell. He doubted it would take long. He was fast learning that the girl was stubborn enough to make Beelzebub long for a holy water bubble bath. 

‘When?’

‘You said family protects each other. Does that mean we’re not your family?’ On the surface, she was all smirking bravado, but Anthony Crowley knew damned well what smirking bravado looked like (he saw it in the mirror enough, after all), and he knew how to see past it easily enough to see the flicker of doubt in the kid. He drew her into a hug quickly, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 

‘You’re our family. Of course you’re our family, you’re a snake-eyed hellion, of _ course _ you’re mine! What I’m saying is that you’re kids. You’re meant to be off having fun, not waging guerrilla warfare against lardy gossips. Leave that to us, okay kiddo?’ She sighed in a way that sounded like she’d been asked to drop her first born into a vat of acid, rather than being asked to stop terrorising the milkman. But she nodded, slowly and reluctantly, and frankly, he’d call it a win. ‘And no freaking out the mortals using magic.’

Aziraphale launched into a rousing lecture about respecting their powers, and the local mortals, and probably a dozen other things before the lecture was done. Crowley tried not to yawn, before giving it up as a lost cause and leaving the kids to their fates. If he was lucky, he’d get another hour’s sleep before Aziraphale remembered breakfast. 

(Aziraphale was far less upset when, by the end of the day, Harry's hair was curly and blonde and an identical match to his own.)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For those asking for a chronological order, it runs as follows:
> 
> In Which A Family Is Created Through Arguable Theft  
Thoughts From the Back of a Bentley  
Hiding In Plain Sight  
Interlude: Through the Looking Glass  
Her Father’s Eyes  
In Which You Probably Shouldn’t Say Those Kinds Of Things Around Children, Crowley  
The Demon Of Lost Causes  
Raising Hell  
Somebody to Love  
Interlude: A Walk Down Privet Drive and An Ominous Sense of Oncoming Doom


End file.
